Permanent Ink
by LovelyFarron
Summary: She hated it, this waiting. She hated feeling. She hated losing. She hated winning. She hated living, laughing, crying, lying, stealing, fighting, killing, existing. But most of all, she hated him.
1. Chapter 1

Game: Mass Effect 3

Pairing: Shep/Jack

Genre: Romance/Angst

Rating: T

A/N: Incorporates events from the Citadel DLC. Post ME 3. Written because I feel like Shep/Jack is largely underappreciated and because I love them. Thinking of turning this into a series of drabbles, and if I do, this will go from Romance/Angst to Romance/Humor, because I love writing humor.

I'm putting a warning for strong language in here, in case anyone is sensitive to that stuff. Jack isn't one to pretty up her words after all!

Anyway, as with all my ME fanfics, Shepard's first name and a detailed description of his appearance will not be given so everyone can imagine their personal Sheps. The Destruction Ending will be assumed for this fic, as that is the only ending in which he is shown to have possibly survived.

Permanent Ink

/ALIVE/

She was glad she'd given him that tattoo. Damn glad. If he really was torn to shreds, laying broken and bleeding somewhere, body beaten beyond recognition—

_No. Shut the fuck up Jack. He's fine. He told you that you—you! Of all people!—worry too much. And you know what? He's fuckin' right. SO STOP THIS SHIT RIGHT NOW!_

Jack stifled a curse, not wanting her kids to hear her bad language. She bit down hard on her lip to keep herself from slipping up, her eyes moving over to look at the young adults she'd grown fiercely attached to as they anxiously waited for news about the state of the Citadel, which had been ripped to pieces after Shepard—and she just knew that it had been him—had started the Crucible up.

Even though she was the perfect picture of calm, a look of utter boredom on her heavy inked face, she was raging inside. Who had given that idiot permission to do something like that without her there? She had wanted to get to him, had fought tooth and nail, punched, cursed, crushed, and utterly annihilated everything that had stood between her and her goal.

But she had been too late.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ensign Rodriguez sneak a worried glance at her before turning her attention back to the wall-to-wall vidscreens. They all knew about her relationship with the Commander and they also knew that it was best to stay away from their teacher in this difficult time, even if they wanted to surround her with comforting words and cushy lies. It wasn't what she needed or wanted, and if someone even _thought _of pulling that shit on her…

_Easy Jack, easy. They mean well, you know they do. They're naïve. Goodhearted, but naïve._

She let out a breath, trying to calm herself.

_Dammit Shepard. You're an ass. You know that? An ass._

She had promised to clean up her act, not only because she had been on the highway to hell—not that she had really cared that much—but because of her kids, because of _him_. Because they cared enough to care about her and she cared about them . Because she had been given a reason to live, to actually give a crap about something in the shitty universe she lived in. The suicide mission had granted her what she had never thought she could get—peace, growth, _love_. And all because of that stupid Spectre with his stupid grin and his stupid charming ways and the stupid way he cared for her.

_Yup. You're an ass, Shepard. A stupid, sexy ass._

Jack rolled her shoulders, tasting blood from where she had bitten down on her lip. The cut stung lightly, just enough to remind her that she was alive and kicking. It felt good. The raw, physical pain. She could deal with that. This emotional shit…not so much.

One of her kids, a young woman, let out a sob and muttered something about extended family members, several of the other students quickly moving in to comfort her. Jack felt her heart go out to the girl, something that, had Shepard not intervened in her life, she would have been incapable of. Hell, if Shepard hadn't intervened she'd probably have been found by those Cerberus bastards and been tortured—or worse.

Her eyes looked over her students, all of them weary and worn ragged by the never-ending demands of the war. She had to be strong for them. They were still scared shitless after all. Though they'd never experience the horror of a Cerberus facility, they'd seen something nearly as bad. What was it Shepard had told her that The Bird had called it? Oh yes, the ruthless calculus of war.

The Reapers were beat, yes, but how long before some other psychopath went…well…psycho? How long before Reaper-wannabes started popping up all over the galaxy? How long before the never-ending nightmare ended?

_Shit, Shepard. You're making me want to live._

Salty tears stung her eyes all of a sudden and she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay. Something inside her chest—was it her heart?—was twisting painfully, making her wish that she could just rip it out and blow it up with a big KABOOM!

Sniffing angrily, she shook her head and stamped her foot impatiently. She hated it, this waiting. She hated feeling. She hated losing. She hated winning. She hated living, laughing, crying, lying, stealing, fighting, killing, existing. But most of all, she hated him.

Because he had given her hope.

Because he had loved her.

"Hey, Ms. Ja—"

"NOT RIGHT NOW!" Jack barked, her voice thick with sorrow. "WIPE YOUR OWN ASS FOR A CHANGE!"

"But—"

"I SAID—" Jack turned on her students, all frightened by her sudden snap. She would feel bad about it later and apologize, but for right now…she was _mad_. And someone needed to pay. She couldn't kill the Reapers because Shepard had already done that for her, and she couldn't kill him because she loved him. And because he was more than likely—

Before she could continue on in her thoughts or rant, the loudspeaker broke over the ruckus of the relief station. A collective breath was taken as everyone stopped what they were doing, all eyes watching, all ears listening, all muscles tensing.

"—BREAKING NEWS! I REPEAT! BREAKING NEWS—"

Jack bit back another curse, this one relating to the new reporter's circumstances under which he'd been conceived.

_Could he just get the hell on with it?!_

"—COMMANDER SHEPARD HAS BEEN FOUND—"

Jack's heart stopped.

_Alive, dammit. Be alive Shepard. Because if you aren't, I'm going to heaven and ripping off your angel wings on my way down to hell._

"—ALIVE."

A/N: "The Bird" refers to Garrus xD


	2. Chapter 2

/BATTERED AND BRUISED/

He was battered and bruised, but she didn't care. He was barely being held together by medigel, but she didn't give a fuck. She was mad at him, boy was she mad, and she couldn't think about anything besides her own anger.

"You asshole!"

The medics attending Shepard were two seconds away from being on the receiving end of biotic throws, but luckily they saw—or rather felt—the anger emanating out from the young tattooed woman and were able to narrowly escape her line of fire. Stepping quickly to the side, the medics—one of them being Dr. Michel—began to protest Jack's sudden intrusion but quickly shut up after a menacing glare from her.

It had been twenty-four hours since they'd found him under the rubble, twenty-four hours in which Jack had been kept at bay with the warning that "the Commander is in the middle of surgery" and that "any distractions may mess up the doctors and cost the Commander his life". But they were done now, had been for the last hour, an hour in which he'd been awake for at least half of.

"You asshole!" she screeched again, storming over to where a startled Commander Shepard laid in bed. He was covered in bandages from head to toe, ugly bruises marring his flesh, deep lacerations cutting down almost to the bone. One of his eyes was swollen shut; he'd never looked so pitiful before and it frightened her. You would never be able to tell by looking at her though; her face was contorted with rage, the veins in her temples bulging. The anger was mostly a mask, a façade, and she hoped that he wouldn't be able to see her quivering lips, detect the shine of fear in her eyes, or notice her trembling hands. She was Jack, the Psychotic Biotic. She didn't do fear. "What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

Shepard blinked a few more times, staring at her dumbly, and for a second Jack wondered if he'd forgotten how to speak. Her worry was soon dispelled however, as he opened his cracked lips and gave her the barest hints of a smile.

"Jack," he said, his voice quiet and raw, "it's good to see you."

Jack could scarcely believe her ears.

"Good to see me? GOOD TO SEE ME?!" She punched him roughly in the arm, her shrill cry echoing throughout the relief station. "After pulling a stunt like that, that's all you can say? It's good to see me? You…!" She struggled, trying to find the right word to describe him. A normal curse word wouldn't do in this situation because he was more than an asshole or a shithead or a fucker. No, he was something else entirely but she couldn't find what it was because she was just so damn relieved that he was still alive that her creativity and bravado was slipping away from her.

Shepard stared at Jack, his face an unreadable mask. Doubtless his arm was singing from where she'd rammed her fist into him, but he didn't seem to care about that. No, he was looking at her in that way he always did when he could tell that there was something upsetting her and it made her even more furious.

How dare he do this to her? How dare he almost die? How dare he let himself get buried under a mountain of shit, his stupid beautiful face fortunately still intact so they didn't have to identify him by the mark she'd given him?

She was mere seconds away from breaking down again, her eyes filling with tears for the seventh time in the past day as she stood there fuming and he just laid there like a big stupid moron. She wanted to hug him, she wanted to kiss him, hell she even wanted to make love rather than just mindlessly go at it like crazed animals, but she couldn't because she was afraid that he was going to vanish, that it was all a dream and that she really was psychotic and that he was dead, his body crushed beneath the rubble and she was never going to get to see him again and—

"Hey, come here."

Jack wordlessly moved in closer to Shepard, finding herself suddenly wrapped in his embrace. He was warm, and she could feel his bare muscled chest moving up and done as he pushed her against him. Hesitantly, she brought her arms up to touch his back, burying her face against his neck and inhaling deeply. He smelled of burnt rubber, sweat, and death but she didn't care. She bit down hard on her lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to slip out, realizing that he was real, that this moment, that everything she'd been dreading and hoping for in the past twenty-four hours had been resolved.

He had come back to her; he hadn't left her like so many others had.

He was alive.

"I'm sorry."

Jack smiled and let out a small laugh, and he held her closer.

"I guess I can forgive you this one time, Shepard," she acquiesced, her eyes still burning brightly with unshed tears. She was no longer shaking, her grip on reality once again having been returned to her. "But if you _ever _do anything like that again…" She disentangled herself from him and gave him a light push, keeping him at arm's length so he could see the gravity of her words by reading her face.

Shepard laughed at her raised eyebrow, finding the serious nature of her threat adorable. "…you'll end me. I know."

Jack narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "End you? Hell no. Death would be too easy a punishment. I was thinking something more like…" She paused and grinned devilishly at him. "No sex?"

The Commander grimaced. "No sex? Not even _you're_ that cruel. What happened to all my speeches rubbing off on you?"

"Guess I need to hear some new ones," Jack sighed. "You've got your work cut out for you again, Commander." There was a smile in her eyes now instead of tears as her heart began to mend. This was what she had needed, this light banter, his acceptance…she needed him. Everything was right with the world, even if she did have to listen to his King of the Boyscout lectures.

Shepard laughed again, grabbing her arms gently and moving so that their foreheads were nearly touching. "I'll give you speeches until I go blue in the face."


	3. Chapter 3

/CRASH/

"Damn, Shepard. It looks like you could use a place to crash."

Shepard pried his eyes open with great effort. It had been three weeks since they had found him buried beneath the rubble of the Citadel, and while he no longer slept most of the day away as his body knit itself back together, he still found himself nodding off more times than he cared to admit.

He was currently on an Alliance starship under Hackett's command, having been transferred to its med bay after Chakwas and Miranda had been certain he could survive the move. In having been relocated, the relief station down on the Citadel would be better able to treat those that were not as fortunate as him.

Jack had not left his side since then, at least not for very long. She was still an instructor of Grissom Academy and had responsibilities to attend to after all. She'd even brought her kids in to wish him a speedy recovery.

"Huh?" he asked, trying to sit up.

Frowning, Jack looked up and waved her omnitool at him impatiently. "Your apartment. You know, the one that…" She hesitated, not wanting to say the word "Anderson" out loud lest she upset him. "…that was a goddamn fortress of a place," she finished lamely.

Shepard gave her a weak smile in thanks, though she needn't have censored her words. He had mourned Anderson, and while he wasn't completely over his death, he didn't need people walking around him as if they were on thin ice. It was a nice gesture regardless, and he wouldn't ever tell Jack, but how she'd caught herself before the name had slipped through her lips really spoke to how far she'd come in terms of caring for others. Or maybe it was just because it was him.

Grunting, the massive hulk of a man pulled himself up before leaning over, trying to see the photos bathed in an orange glow. Jack scooted her chair closer and turned it slightly, angling it so that he could see without craning his neck too much.

"I think you're right," he said after a minute, his face twisting in a grim expression as he surveyed the damage. The apartment had been a treasured gift from his mentor, and he hoped that Anderson's voice recordings were still untouched somewhere in the wreckage. It had also been the last place where he had been able to unwind with his crew and he was glad that he had sent Liara a copy of the group picture, as the screen containing his had more than likely bit the dust.

"Well hey, it's not all that bad," the biotic said, deactivating her omnitool. "It could have been worse."

"Oh?" the Commander asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

Jack shrugged. "Most of your stuff was still on the _Normandy_, wasn't it? All that was really lost was a kickass place."

"And Traynor's trophy."

Jack snorted. "The kid'll get over it, I'm sure. She's not dead from Reapers so I'm sure she can forgive you for letting her stupid prize get crushed. It looked dumb anyway."

Shepard chuckled softly and shook his head. "Maybe. But it was important to her. I'll still apologize."

Jack rolled her eyes but said nothing more, though Shepard knew she thinking something along the lines of, "Damn he's a boyscout to the core."

"So do you know of a place I could stay?" he asked, changing the topic. He was originally from Earth, but he'd been raised on the streets and after joining the Alliance had never thought it pertinent to buy some small house or apartment to lounge in when off duty. When he was awaiting his trial on Earth, the Alliance had given him lodgings to stay in that were close to their premises, so it hadn't mattered if he'd had a place to stay or not.

"Yeah, with me," Jack answered nonchalantly in response to his question.

Shepard blinked in surprise, scarcely able to believe his ears. "Wait. _You _have a place to stay?"

The biotic looked at him, irritation working its way across her face. "No, Shepard. I live out of a fuckin' shell. Of course I have a place! Why do you look so fuckin' surprised?" she asked hotly, eyes flashing with indignation.

"It's just…" the Spectre's mouth opened and closed several times before he could make any intelligent sounds. "…_you_." He wasn't trying to insult her, but it was a big shock. Jack, even though she had decided to enter into a monogamous relationship with him, was still wild and free; having a place tied to her just didn't seem…_her_.

Sighing, Jack leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees. "I told you that your damn speeches rubbed off on me. When Grissom Academy contacted me and I read through their shitload of rules and regulations, I figured that a 'respectable' teacher would have a house or some shit to dick around in every now and then. I didn't fuckin' live on the space station 24/7." Her eyebrows drew together. "You didn't think that, did you?"

"No, I just…" Shepard laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

Jack let out an aggravated sigh and shook her head. "You are so lucky I like you, Shepard."

"I am."

Jack's face heated up at the tenderness in his voice and she bit her lip to fight the blush that was threatening to paint her cheeks a bright red color. "Knock that shit off, Shepard!" she yelled loudly, roughly punching him in the arm. "You're embarrassing me!"

"Am I?" he inquired, leaning forward and lightly touching her face, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

"Yes! Now go the fuck to sleep. You remember what those damn doctors said."

"No rest for the wicked, eh?" he mused cheerfully, blinking lazily.

"Yeah, something like that."

Shepard smiled as he rested his head against the pillow once again, the sweet call of the dream world pulling him away again. Before he was completely out, he heard Jack say, "I'm just pissed we didn't get to wreck more of your furniture with some good rough sex."


End file.
